And I say to my Christ ........what have they done to you?

As I rush out of the Casa de Cinco Bicas, the wind tugs at my skirt, pulls at my hair, in Aveiro the wind is very mischievous never misses out a chance to play with you. I turn left, then right, which side should I go, my sense of direction is terrible, yes I realise it is on the left, Jumbo the Mecca of the shoppers is on the right.
With uneven steps, I do love cobbles, but they are so tricky to negotiate, how does Prof. Eugenia manage to walk so fast without tripping; she practically flies all over them. The cobbles are laid out in such elegance, how do they handle all those intricate designs, those wonderful calçadas; circles, lozenges, diamonds, spirals you name it, it is there for you in stone, always in austere black and white, such precision, so beautiful in its stark simplicity. But I had no time to admire the calçada, I was in a hurry, I was on my way to the Museu Princesa Santa Joana, my outing on Sundays
Museu Princesa Santa Joana, the name evokes royalty and Princesa Joana is royalty, daughter of Afonso V, she is a princess who entered the Convento de Jesus da Ordem Dominicana femina.
The first thing that strikes me when I look at her painting is her innocence; her beautiful young face, radiating serenity; what made you become a cloistered nun Princesa? Was it because you lacked suitors? Was it because you lacked political clout? Or did you really want to dedicate your life to the Lord Jesus?
Whatever her reasons, the Princesa Joana, lived an exemplary life, dedicating herself to works of charity. She was held in such high esteem that she was beatified and is now the much beloved Saint of Aveiro, but our Dourado was not satisfied, beatified and a Saint? How could it be questioned his ever vigilant knowledgeable mind, you have to be canonised to be a Saint!
She is our Saint insisted Sr. Santos our cultured guide.
But beatification is not sainthood, quoted our theologian.
Come on dear friend Dourado, she is a Saint to the people of Aveiro; they just love her, who cares about all that theology. Saints are all about simplicity, all about faith.
We watch the tomb of the simple Princesa who dedicated her life to the work of Christ, nothing exceptional I think, you see I am biased I love the tomb of our resident saint, St. Francisco Xavier.
The museum is dedicated to the life and works of the Princesa, housed in the old Convento de Jesus, the Convento is now denuded of its old grandeur, you understand that it fell into disrepair after a decree by the Minister Joaquim António de Aguiar expelling all religious orders from the kingdom.
So you do not see any cells where the nuns rested their weary bodies after a long day of work and prayer, gone is the infirmary, of the pharmacy we see only a huge, black cupboard that housed the medicines, most probably herbal concoctions, no offices where a stern Mother Superior took stock of every thing that went on in the Convent, and the cellars so full of provisions for those long winter months are long gone.
But we do see vestiges of the kitchen and refectory. What did they eat? Did they gossip like we do all the time? Did the cook know how to cook or did she dish out unpalatable stuff that the Princesa was forced to eat without complaining? Did the cook know about our very own recipe for bebinca?
Our guide Sr. Santos, a person who really knows the place and its history very well, shows us where the religious chapter met, so this is where all important discussions take place, such austere simplicity. Sr. Santos explains to us an amazing fact, tucked just close to the door is the figure of a tiny dog etched in the stone wall. We are told, that it is the emblem of the Order of the Dominicans, Domini canis, “Dog of the Lord" faithful to the Lord as a dog is to man. How beautiful, how simply touching. I touch the little dog and think ‘how precious you are little one, there is an entire Order named after you’
We do see parts of the old, now extinct convent; the Sala de Lavor and the Capela do Senhor dos Passos. Huge paintings of the life of the Santa Princesa, adorn the walls, pictures of the Princesa entering the Convent, the Princesa welcoming her father Afonso V from the battle of Arzila and many more episodes from the life of the Royal inmate.
We move to the High Choir and that’s when I stand rooted to the spot, my heart stands still, amidst the beautiful stalls for the nuns, stands a tall crucifix with a figure crucified, yes it is Christ all right, but He is not the Christ I know, He has no crown of thorns, has it fallen off? Or did he never have one? His body is not emaciated like the Christ I know, he seems just a Man, a normal Man, a poor Man, a short Man whose back must have carried heavy weights. He has the most human face. I see with a sense of shock and pity that His hair has been hacked off in clumps. And I say to my Christ, ‘what have they done to you?’
Sr. Santos calls us to move rapidly in front of this Christ and you see so many expressions mirrored on His serene face.
And I say to my Christ, what have they done to you? Why have they hacked off Your hair? Is it to humiliate You? For I realise that nothing humiliates or disfigures a person so much as cutting off their hair in careless clumps. In a flash I remember a young woman crying out to my aunt,
‘Veja D. Elsa meu marido cortou meu cabelo’.
I remember her hair chopped out in clumps, disfiguring her face completely.
We move to the Museu, with its many exhibits, mostly statues from the now defunct convents. So many statues of saints and angels, relics of saints once so revered, touched so often.
I see the Blessed Virgin cradling the body of her dead Son and she cries out to us, ‘What have you done to my Son? Such pain on her face, such bewilderment, such incomprehension, she is just a Mother after all……